


Of Doves and Ravens

by heartbreakerr



Series: At Dawn [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Jealousy, Multi, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bc endgame is claudeth, byleth/everybody, emphasis on SLOW, morally gray byleth, my take on byleth, no beta we die like Glenn, she’s real heartless lol, some major ocs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakerr/pseuds/heartbreakerr
Summary: The Ashen Demon, they called her. Whispered about how she’d cut down enemies without fail. How blood and bone only spurred her on. A monster, they said, and yet they bowed at her feet as though she were a god. And she let them. Let them beg for mercy like a prayer.But she was no god; she did not grant them life.Her only reason for living, for breathing, for existing was to accomplish one goal. She cared not for people who feared her, for those who coward away from her blank stare. One single dream was all that mattered to her.And if she had to break time to get there, so be it.OrByleth already had one chance at this life, realized she messed up, and decided to redo everything; except she can’t remember.Orslowburn claudeth but it takes place during the azure moon path
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: At Dawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859179
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Of Doves and Ravens

Byleth remembered the first time she took a mans life. She could still taste his blood on her lips. Still see life drain from his eyes as he begged for mercy he did not deserve. Perhaps if she had a heart, if she were human, she would have felt guilty. That man probably had a family; maybe a wife and some kids, who were eagerly awaiting his return. Now, they’d wait forever for a dead man. 

And yet, she didn’t care. 

At the sight of red on her fingers, staining the fabric of her shirt, she threw up. If only because of the stench of rot and iron. As his eyes, unseeing, stared up at her, she felt nothing. 

She’d been thirteen at the time. Not young and naïve, though. Growing up with mercenaries meant she’d been exposed to everything at an early age. Byleth used to listen to tales of slaughter, of women they slept with, while they sang around a fire. Her father had never liked her hearing those stories, but did nothing to stop her. Innocence was not kept around people who murdered others for money. 

Jeralt had put off allowing Byleth to fight for a long time. Perhaps it should’ve angered her, but she only felt mild annoyance and familial attachment to the man. He was her father, and yet she did not know if she loved him. Her emotions were never more than a dull hum in her empty chest. No heart. No feelings. No humanity. 

The Ashen Demon was a title that plagued her like a never ending nightmare. She didn’t want to be this way. To be cold and callous. It was instilled in her since birth. Born a hollow being for the world to point at and call a monster. For parents to warn their children of. It was only natural. Fear. They’d looked at her with terror; from the blood on her fingers, to her blank expression. So she accepted her title. The world made her out to be a beast, and she would carry that proudly. An unfeeling monster. 

Although, looking back on it, she’d once had a friend. When she was a child so many years ago. He’d shown her how to dance. How to cook fish over a fire to perfection. Perhaps even showed her what love tasted like. 

And now he rotted beneath her feet. 

Sometimes, she wished he was alive. At the very least to support her, to be a comfort in dark times. Then, together, maybe hand-in-hand, they could fulfill his dream of peace. 

“I want to live in a world where people don’t need to fight,” he explained to her as they watched stars long ago. “Where everyone is allowed to exist without fear. Without discrimination.” 

“Fahim,” she said, voice neutral as her eyes traced over Ursa Major,” you travel with mercenaries. We kill to keep ourselves alive.” 

“I know,” he replied, shifting in the grass to finally face her. Byleth spared him a glance, dead eyes meeting amber ones so full of life. “I know you think it’s silly—“

“I did not say that.” 

Fahim fell silent, face full of emotion she could never hope to understand. He looked at her like she was made of glass. Held her hand as though she’d shatter. Never in her life had anyone treated her delicately. She was trained to kill people. To continue a cycle of unending violence. And Fahim, the gentlest person she knew, thought her frail. 

“I’m not sure how realistic your dreams are,” she started, rolling on to her side to meet his gaze head on,” but know you will always have my support.” 

He’d smiled then. Showing off the gap between his pearly whites he was so self-conscious of. Fahim only ever smiled at her like that. When the world was silent, and it was truly just the two of them, he’d breathe life into her. Looking back now, she thought it might be happiness. 

Fahim had made her happy. 

But that’d been years ago, and he had long since been buried with all of his idealistic dreams of an untouched future. Not that Byleth gave up on them. No matter how much blood needed to be spilled, she’d create a world Fahim would be proud of. Hypocritical, really, considering he wished for a future of no violence. It didn’t matter, though, because she didn’t need to live in that world as long as she could create it. For him. 

As she grew older, she learned she loved Jeralt, too. Not in the same way she might’ve loved Fahim, but a softer, familial love that had always been there. Her father taught her how to wield a sword, how to take down enemies with her bare hands. He’d made mistakes, told her the wrong thing at the wrong time, but he’d always tried. 

“Byleth.” 

The familiar voice hadn’t startled her, but she tensed. Kareem, Fahim’s twin brother. Sometimes it hurt to look at him for too long, other times she pretended he was someone he wasn’t. Fahim would never return to her.

(Or him, but she was too selfish to dwell on that thought.) 

“Yes?” she answered, casting a short gaze over her shoulder. Kareem wore his typical frown, lips pressed together tightly. 

“Jeralt told me to get you,” he said,” says we’ll be heading out soon.” 

Byleth nodded stiffly, immediately turning away from him. His eyes gleamed an all too familiar amber. Black hair messy and curled on his head; just like Fahim used to have. Although Byleth never got to see Fahim’s hair without the typical Almyrian braid all young boys wore. She’d been the one to cut off Kareem’s on his eighteenth birthday, never having been told why she was the one to do it. Kareem had simply handed her the dagger, eyes never meeting hers for too long. She didn’t ask again and the conversation was left in the past. 

(Just like how they never spoke of Fahim.)

“Hurry up then,” he grunted, reaching past her to grab his bag. Their skin brushed, and thoughts of the previous night echoed in her mind. They were not lovers, Kareem would stab anyone who thought they were. As curious teenagers, pressing bruising kisses on each other’s skin, she hadn’t expected it to escalate. Then it was his hands against her bare body, whispering honeyed lies to each other. They could pretend to love, to be in love. 

“Are you going to wa—“ 

He slammed the door, effectively cutting her off. Byleth brushed it off. Kareem had always been like this, even as a child. Once, he’d pulled on her braid, and she punched him so hard she broke his nose. Fahim apologized for the next week, but it wasn’t until Kareem muttered a quick apology did she forgive him. And then she was forced to apologize for breaking his nose, but Kareem was more impressed she did it to care. 

“Fahim,” she muttered under her breath,” what should I do?”

Silence answered her.

(As it always did.)

。。。

Jeralt greeted her with a sharp clap to her shoulder. Byleth withheld the wince, too used to her father’s affection. 

“Still having those dreams, kid?” he asked,” you seem tired.” 

“Yes,” she replied easily. It wasn’t a lie, she was still having dreams of a green-haired child, of war and grief; but that hadn’t kept her up the night prior. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Kareem tense. Jeralt noticed, but said nothing. As much as Kareem wanted to hide it, Jeralt already knew something was up. He never spoke to Byleth about it, though. She doubted he ever would. Jeralt trusted her enough to believe she knew what she was doing. 

(He was wrong, obviously, but Byleth wasn’t going to argue.) 

Jeralt grunted in acknowledgement. His eyebrows furrowed, like he wanted to say more, but the arrival of Harrison cut him off. Byleth knew he’d bring it up again later. 

“Sir, pardon the intrusion, but your presence is needed,” he said solemnly, a deep frown marrying his features. Although Harrison was older now, Byleth could still remember him holding her hand when she was a child, too nervous she’d get lost. He’d been more against her learning to fight than Jeralt. If anything, Kareem should be afraid of him, not her father. 

“For what?” 

“Kids, sir, they’re asking for help with bandits,” Harrison supplied, then tipped his head, and went back to telling the rest of their men to hurry up. 

Jeralt pinched the bridge of his nose, before turning to face her. 

“You ready?” he asked, a crooked grin on his lips. Byleth moved her sword to her hip, keeping it in place. 

“Of course.” 

。。。

The kids, whoever they were, did not interest her. Byleth focused on the surrounding trees instead, lips pressing together just slightly in thought. They’d use the foliage to their advantage, come down on their enemies with force. Bandits were hardly composed, boneheaded enough to run into battle without a real plan. Hubris would be their downfall. She would make sure of it. 

“Take the kids with you, I’ll come in the other way.” 

Byleth blinked back into her reality, realizing her father was talking to her. 

“Why am I taking them?” she asked, not batting an eye at the three she was talking so obviously about. Byleth wasn’t a fan of children, especially hormonal teens. She doubted they could hold their own in battle. 

“Because I trust you,” Jeralt replied, clasping a hand to her shoulder. As much as she wished to argue, she held her tongue. With a sharp nod, she turned to face them. 

The first one was a pale girl, with equally pale hair. She looked like she was assessing Byleth, but she was unsure of what. There was something about her, though, something annoyingly familiar. As they met eyes, Byleth felt her chest burn. She swallowed, turning away. Did she know her? That girl? It was like she’d met her before; in another life, perhaps. 

How did she know her hair smelt like lilacs and her lips tasted of sugar and blood? Byleth gripped her sword’s handle tighter. 

The second was a blond boy, stiff and rigid. He seemed to wince as soon as her eyes trailed to him. The final boy caused her chest to tighten. Bright, green eyes, and a single braid. For a second, a gut wrench moment, she thought Fahim had come back to her. 

But Fahim did not have green eyes. 

“With me,” she said, words caught in her throat. Unable to look at him, she turned away. The pale girl and Not-Fahim made her skin itch. 

The blond boy was quick to catch up with her, footsteps falling in place with hers. At least it wasn’t the other two, she thought. Byleth didn’t spare him a glance, focused on watching the trees around them. She walked deeper into the trees, branches beginning to shield them from view. He was talking, she realized, but she hadn’t cared to listen. Pausing, she turned to him, drawing her sword from her hip. A branch snapped near them. 

In one swift motion, she brushed past him, sword swinging into a high arc. The first bandit fell with a gargled cry. Stepping back into the trees, she turned to them. 

“We stay out of sight, and then we hit them, hard,” she said simply. “I’m going to assume you can at least handle your own weapons.” 

Byleth didn’t bother to stay for their responses. Immediately, she took off, and she nearly grinned when she heard their footsteps follow after her. Bursting out of the trees, she sliced down another bandit, spinning around to cut one behind her down. From the corner of her eye, she saw an arrow hit one of them in the throat. Her chest felt constricted. That boy, Not-Fahim, held his bow like he’d just recently learned to shoot the way people in Fodlan did. It was clear it wasn’t his natural shooting style. 

He was Almyrian. Not that the braid didn’t give it away. 

Letting the blond boy drive his lance through a bandit rushing at her, Byleth stepped away. Mangled bodies littered the ground, but it was not that she was concerned with. 

“Where’s the girl?” she asked, turning to glance at the two boys. Not-Fahim took a look around, while Blond Boy tensed. 

“Maybe she ran off,” Not-Fahim suggested casually, but there was something dark in his eyes she couldn’t understand. 

“Edelgard would never—“

“It’s a joke, your princeliness, don’t get your britches in a twist,” he said, giving Blond Boy a cheeky grin. Byleth ignored them, instead walking further through the trees and into a clearing. A glint of pale hair caught her attention, a yell, and the metal swing of an axe. 

Oh.

Byleth’s body moved faster than her mind, and in a moment she stood in front of her. The axe had barely cut into her flesh before her breath was grabbed from her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed for the second time in her life. 

Except this time, she was answered. 

“How could you be so reckless?!” 

The voice is familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like she’d heard it in a distant memory. Despite the sea of darkness around her, she could still make out a green-haired child sitting on a throne. She was obviously angered, hair almost rising off of her back like a cat. 

“To throw your life away for a stranger, you must truly be daft,” she continued, and had it not been for the fact Byleth knew she should be dead, the girl’s anger would’ve been comical. “I suppose you don’t realize how valuable your life truly is.” 

Byleth continued to stare, face blank save for the slightly widened eyes. 

Should she not be dead?

“I have frozen time, if only for a moment,” she replied, and Byleth realized she’d asked it out loud. “When I unfreeze it, the axe will inevitably dig into your back, and you will perish.” 

Death was not a foreign concept to her. She’d watched countless men and women, good and bad people, fall. Some to her blade, some to others. Fahim had bled out in her arms, eyes tracing the constellations above even in his last moments. Death was no stranger; but now that it had come for her, it felt wrong. She had a dream—Fahim’s dream—to fulfill. She’d willingly sell her soul when it was achieved, but not now. Not when she had so much left to do. 

“I can’t die yet,” Byleth said with finality. 

“Obviously not!” she shrilled. “You are the one who recklessly endangered our lives!”

Byleth winced, pinching together her eyes slightly. She was right. 

“I acted without thought,” Byleth agreed, and the girl let out a small ‘humph.’

“You did,” she replied, slumping down on her throne. She rested her chin against her knuckles, watching Byleth. “I might be able to fix this, but I am unsure how.” 

Byleth nodded absentmindedly. This was the same child she’d dreamt about since she could remember. The same child who’d reached for her, who’d been absent as war broke out. 

“Can you turn back time?” she asked, a faraway memory resurfacing. She remembered tasting blood on her tongue as time rewinded itself. Undoing mistakes and regrets with a pull. She didn’t know how she knew, but something in her gut stirred. 

This never ending sea of darkness around them, the girl with green hair, the axe splitting her back; it all felt too familiar. Like she’d been here before. 

“Yes!” the green-haired girl cried,” of course! I will rewind time.” 

“Thank you,” Byleth said, feeling time begin to shift around her,” Sothis.” 

Sothis’ eyes widened, the green almost eerily bright. 

“How did you—“

Time shattered around her, and Sothis was nowhere in sight. 

。。。

“You did a good job, kid,” Jeralt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Byleth managed a nod back, ignoring the dull ache on her back. The axe had never met her flesh, but she felt the metal pulsing.

“Yes, we must thank you for your service,” Blond Boy said, placing a hand on his chest and bowing. Not-Fahim and Pale Girl offered the same look of respect. 

She’d seen this before; been here before. 

Déjà vu was nothing new to her. As a child, memories of a life that had never happened haunted her dreams. Smoke filled her lungs, blood bathed her skin. Pale eyes, a promise. Mad eyes, a sickening crunch. Eyes too green to be Fahim’s, regret. Byleth gripped her sword’s handle. 

“Your skill is beyond question,” Pale Girl agreed, and Byleth felt a throb in her temple. There it was again. The feeling of being here before. “It’s clear you’re a skilled mercenary—“

“Now, now, Princess, shouldn’t we introduce ourselves before you ask anything of her.” Not-Fahim smiled differently than her Fahim. Voice honeyed and words poisonous. Her Fahim was a gentle soul, heart on his sleeve, and eyes made of roses and silk. 

“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” Blond Boy said, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing slightly. Byleth found herself growing weary of conversing with them. 

Byleth’s stance never fully relaxed, fingers still curled around the handle of her sword. Dimitri didn’t notice, a composed smile on his face. It wasn’t forced, but there was something off about it. Like he was only just able to bottle his anger up at the world. 

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was angry, Byleth thought. Angry enough to shove it down and pretend he never felt it. That made him dangerous. 

“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” the pale girl said, shoulders still stiff as she nodded her head at Byleth. “Thank you again for aiding us.” 

(A distant voice said she smiled at sunrises and held a soft-spot for birds, but Byleth ignored it. She didn’t know her. This girl was a stranger; she _had_ to be.) 

“And _I_ am Claude von Riegan,” Not-Fahim said, the smile never leaving his lips. His tone was light and playful, and his expression warm, but his eyes told another story. Stony and cold and very clearly assessing her. Not in the same way Edelgard had been earlier. He looked for cracks in her masks, weaknesses unseen. 

_All three of them are dangerous._

Byleth nearly winced at Sothis’ sudden appearance, her ghostly form floating next to her. 

_They are familiar though. You feel it too, do you not?_

She didn’t reply, but with the way Sothis looked at her she knew that she knew. These strangers, three people she had never met before today, were familiar. Like a long forgotten memory she desperately tried to stamp down. 

“Byleth,” she said to them simply, face unchanging as Claude’s smile seemed to widen. 

_That one_ , Sothis said next to her ear, _is especially dangerous._

。。。

The most surprising thing to happen today was her father agreeing to return with his apparent friend, Alois. None of the other mercenaries seemed to agree with Jeralt’s decision, from their collective groans. Byleth found herself agreeing with them. 

“Oh, shut your traps,” Harrison snapped, already yelling at them to get a move on. Kareem gave her a brief glance, nodding slightly, before he moved with the rest of their group. It was Harrison who squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry too much about Garreg Mach, Bylie,” he said comfortingly, a stark contrast to him yelling a moment ago. Harrison had always been softer with Byleth and Kareem (and Fahim years ago). “Your father used to be a knight there.” 

Kareem and Fahim were left orphans after their mother was killed on a job. Jeralt must have felt responsible for her death, because he accepted two seven-year-olds, who’d never touched a weapon in their lives, into their group without complaint. 

“I’m not worried,” she replied easily, earning a chuckle from the older man. Harrison, more mountain than man, had taught her Faith magic, but only because he was the groups healer. It was almost humorous to see him rushing around the battlefield, axe drawn, before going to heal someone. No matter how rough he was, he always handled his patients tenderly. 

“Those kids are looking at you again,” Harrison said, eyes moving behind her shoulder. Taking a glance back, Byleth met three pairs of eyes. Edelgard and Dimitri at least looked sheepish, sending her curt nods, but Claude waved at her energetically. “Already got yourself admirers?”

Byleth didn’t know what he found funny, but he laughed, hand against his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten admirers. She supposed if someone came valiantly swooping in to save her life, maybe she’d fall for them too. 

Like the one noble boy who’d proposed to her after she’d taken an arrow to the shoulder for him. She refused, of course, but she’d fucked him later that night with no promises of returning. She’d barely been eighteen at the time, the boy hardly any older than her. Her father had found her, stumbling out of the noble’s room, hair a mess and clothes crooked. He didn’t give her a lecture, didn’t storm in to threaten the boy. Jeralt had inhaled sharply, before resting a hand on her head. He looked like he had so much to say and no way to say it. 

_“I trust you.”_

Then, she hadn’t understood what he meant, but now she did. He trusted her to not mess up. To not do something reckless. 

She’d given him a silent nod and that was that. He never brought it up again, never asked anything more about the noble. Byleth was glad for it, seeing as she couldn’t even remember his name. The only people she vividly remembered sleeping with were Kareem (and that was mainly because he was there and easily accessible), and the boy she’d lost her virginity to. Rin he’d called himself, and so she remembered Rin with the prettiest lavender hair and lilac eyes. 

“Doubtful,” she said, licking her lips and frowning at their dryness. She’d hoped to be on the road to their next destination, not traveling to some school of rich brats. 

“Well, it’s always a positive to be on the good side of royalty,” he said casually, brown eyes shimmering with poorly concealed amusement. Byleth paused, cocking her head to the side. 

“Them?” 

“You didn’t notice? Bylie, you saved the princess of the Adrestian Empire, the prince of Faerghus, the heir of the Leicester Alliance, and you didn’t notice?” He looked personally victimized as he asked. 

“Should I have?” she asked, growing more irritated at the reveal than anything. It felt like she should know this, like the information was stored in the corners of her hazy mind, begging to be touched. Had Sothis been awake, she’d have questioned this. 

Harrison shook his head, an affectionate smile playing on his lips. 

“You’re cute.”

“I’m aware.”

。。。

As they’d marched to Garreg Mach, Byleth found herself trapped between the three of them. They talked, she vaguely listened, eyes desperately trying to connect with Kareem’s. He apparently found her suffering amusing because he only smirked and made sure to not meet her gaze. 

She’d exchange words with him later. 

“Are you two together?”

The question broke her focus from Kareem’s back. Claude gave her a curious look, smile still wide. Edelgard rolled her eyes at the question, obviously used to him asking inappropriate things. Dimitri was the only one to splutter. 

“Are you asking if we’re fucking?” Byleth asked tiredly, bored eyes resting on Claude’s pretty green ones. She’d always been weak for pretty eyes. 

Dimitri stuttered again, something about that being inappropriate, and Edelgard‘s face twitched in disgust. Of course, nobles were such prudes it was boring. Claude, on the other hand, laughed, his smile now meeting his eyes. 

If he had anything more to say, their arrival cut off his response. They paused, taking in the towering building, something about it drawing Byleth in. For the second time in her life she felt fear. Her gut twisted and had she a heart it might have stopped. She’d been here before. She wasn’t sure when or how, but flashes of the court yard, of the library, of a room she knew was hers. It was enough to make her shudder. 

Silently, she broke away from the group, ready to join her father’s side. Claude stopped her again.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His smile said one thing and his eyes whispered another. Byleth found herself annoyed she’d once compared him to Fahim. Where her Fahim was a dove, petite and innocent, Claude was a raven, ready and willing to rip apart anyone for his own gain. She wondered what he’d gain from her answering him. Manipulation was not something she understood. It was much easier to threaten them with a loss of limb than mold them into what she wanted with her words alone. 

“Yes,” she said plainly, as though talking about the weather. She did not stay to see Dimitri’s red face or Edelgard’s disgust, but she heard Claude’s laughter ring out behind her as she turned. 

。。。

Jeralt squeezed her shoulder, a silent warning that Byleth didn’t need. Every bone on her body screamed to turn away from her, to run, to fight.

Rhea stood before her, pale and bright and motherly and everything Byleth was taught to fear. Her hands were clasped in front of her, a smile, one that promised death, pulled across her face. 

(And Byleth saw that same face twisted with rage, screaming, calling her a traitor.

Byleth struck her down and her screams were forever silenced, her heart beginning to beat and then—) 

“What is your name?” Rhea asked pleasantly, eyes sharp and full of something Byleth could not place. 

She stayed silent for a moment, lips pressed together for a moment. They were dry, she thought, after she was done here she needed a drink. And to end up in Kareem’s bed. One step at a time. 

“Byleth,” she said, not for the first time today. Rhea’s smile seemed to widen. Seteth frowned harder. She decided she disliked both. 

“Wonderful,” Rhea whispered and she could particularly feel the word on her. 

Yes, Byleth thought, she’d need a drink after this. 

。。。

After Rhea wished them a good night, Jeralt was quick to excuse them. She stayed by her father’s side, silence descending them both as their footsteps echoed down the hall. There was so much to ask him, so many things to say, and yet she said nothing. 

“Sorry I got you into this mess, kid,” Jeralt said when they made it outside. The air felt nice against her skin. “We won’t stay long. Just need to see what Lady Rhea wants and if I don’t like it...”

Jeralt trailed off deliberately, a warning on his tongue. Byleth nodded, squeezing his hand. He smiled then, tension gently leaving his shoulders. Jeralt did not smile much, but when he did it was mostly for her. If she was the type, she’d smile back. 

“I trust you,” she said instead. 

。。。

Of course, nothing ever went her way. Since Sothis began to talk to her, her luck had run out completely. Kareem had arrived at the nearby tavern earlier than her, struck up a conversation with some pretty red-head, and didn’t bother to attempt to talk her. Not that she approached him either. He’d glanced at her, as though goading her to come over and steal him away, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain him. 

Did he think she was jealous? She cared very little about who he slept with as long as it included her. And most of the time he’d choose her over some stranger, but not tonight it seemed. 

She brushed by him instead, ordering two bottles of whatever was strong enough to get her shit-faced. Harrison was nowhere to be seen either, and according to one of the other mercenaries, he’d turned in early. 

Maybe she could get drunk, feel someone up, and end up in a stranger’s bed. 

_Do you always have such uncouth thoughts?_

Byleth rolled her eyes, leaning heavier against the bar. Sothis decided to speak up now of all times. 

‘Yes, get used to it.’ 

_Filthy._

And then she went silent, leaving her alone again. That was fine. She didn’t need anyone nagging at her for her terrible coping methods. So she liked the thrill of feeling human as strangers she’d never see again looked at her with dark, lustful eyes. Of not being looked at as the monster everyone else made her out to be. She felt the most human when she was atop someone’s lap, full, breasts bouncing as she moved, lips opened in silent moans. Or having her head shoved against a mattress, hips turned up so she could take in as much as possible. 

Goddess, she just needed a good fuck. 

Leaving some gold behind, she took the bottles of ale from the bartender and left. Byleth didn’t care to see Kareem leaving with the red-head, and it was too much work to find someone interested enough in her body to look past the way her eyes stayed dead. 

_Perhaps you should simply go to bed._

‘How boring,’ Byleth replied. 

_Are you truly so reckless!?_

‘Always.’ 

She ignored Sothis’ groan, almost vividly seeing the apparition roll her eyes. 

。。。

Her trek back to Garreg Mach was uneventful. Sothis had gone silent, or was giving her the silent treatment, because she could tell she wasn’t asleep. Part of her hoped Kareem would chase after her so she could just get drunk and have a warm body to sleep next to, but he didn’t. Men continued to disappoint her, it seemed. 

After finishing her first bottle, she’d gingerly tossed it towards a pile of trash and opened the other. She’d barely taken a swig before she heard an achingly familiar voice. One she had no interest in listening to. 

“Didn’t take you for the drinking type.” 

Claude von Riegan, most definitely not her Fahim, stood in front of her. Byleth vaguely wondered if students here had a curfew. Not that Claude seemed like he’d honor that. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“But I could,” he replied almost instantly, falling into step with her. “I think you’re pretty interesting.” 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, their gaze meeting lazily. He was grinning as she’d seen before, and although he did seem genuinely amused, there was something else there. Something she couldn’t quite place. 

So she didn’t. 

Turning her gaze back in front of her, she frowned slightly. 

“I don’t fuck boys.” 

A beat of silence. 

“What?” Claude looked surprised, before laughing, his head going back as he did. Byleth hardly ever knew why people found the things she said amusing, but she was more lost now than before. Stoping right outside her room, she turned to fully face him. 

“Is that not what you’re after?” she asked, sloshing her ale around as she considered finishing it in one swig. 

“No, but if you’re offering—“

“I am not.”

“Then no,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe my intentions are truly genuine.”

Byleth could smell a liar from a mile away, and Claude von fucking Riegan stunk. 

“That doesn’t change the fact you’re a boy,” she said, blank face almost looking bored. If Claude noticed, he said nothing, continuing to smile at her like she was some sort of play. 

“I’m hardly any younger than you,” he pointed out,” you’re what? Nineteen?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re a boy who’s probably seen a pair of breasts once in his life.” 

“Twice, actually,” he said, grinning wider. Byleth considered stabbing him and throwing the body in a nearby river, but thought better of it. She didn’t need his little royal family up her ass for killing their son just because he got on her nerves. 

“Is that all?” she drawled, bringing the bottle to her lips once more. 

“Marry me?” he asked. If he wanted her to choke on her ale, he was surely mistaken. Without flinching she downed her drink, dropping her arm back to her side before using her free hand to wipe her mouth. 

“Grow a beard and I just might.” 

Without so much as a goodbye, she slammed the door behind her as Claude yelled something she couldn’t hear. 

。。。

They must be fools. This entire fucking church and everyone else here were absolute fucking fools. 

“Why would you make her a teacher!?” 

Okay, maybe Seteth had some common sense because he was asking the same question she was, but the doubt in his voice did him no favors. Goddess, she didn’t like him. 

“I know what I am doing, Seteth.” 

Or her. 

Seteth looked like he wanted to say more, but his lips twitched shut, face twisted in very obvious outrage. For the second time in less than 24 hours, she considered manslaughter. 

“I’ve never taught a day in my life,” Byleth said instead of stabbing her dagger into his gut. She figured this would get her in less trouble. 

“I have complete faith in you,” Rhea said evenly, hands still clasped in front of her. 

_A foolish mistake._

For once, Byleth begrudgingly agreed with the voice in her head. 

。。。

_Will you cease your incessant thoughts of stabbing people?!_

‘Kareem is laughing at me.’

_Others have laughed at you!_

‘And I would stab them as well.’ 

_That is not a normal thought people have!_

‘It’s not?’

_No!_

“Gods.” Kareem chuckled dryly. “You? A teacher? They might as well have hired a brick wall.” 

Byleth felt the urges to roll her eyes, but she didn’t. She jabbed her elbow into his bare stomach instead, rolling off of him and curling up on his mattress with her back facing him. 

He’d come looking for her tonight, intention clear in his eyes. It was almost pathetic how easily she allowed him to lead her to his room. He was cool against her warm skin, hand resting on her hip. 

“Don’t pout, Bylie,” he said, bringing his chin to rest on her head,” it’s not a good look on you.” 

“I do not _pout_.” 

“You are pouting.” 

She had no response so she said nothing, closing her eyes instead. Kareem’s breathing was gentle against her, his heartbeat pounding on his chest so fast she could feel it on her back. She wondered how that felt. To have something thrumming in her chest to prove she was human. 

“What class did you choose to teach?” he finally asked, thumb rubbing circles on her hip bone. 

“The Blue Lions.” 

“Those noble brats?” 

“They’re all noble brats.” 

She felt him shrug behind her. 

“The Golden Deer have more common folk,” he said. 

“Their house leader would stab me as soon as I turned my back,” she replied tiredly, never opening her eyes. 

The Blue Lions were the obvious choice. She hadn’t even bothered to consider her decision—much to Sothis’ dismay—before she picked them. Edelgard was too familiar. There were too many memories of bruising kisses and tears and green eyes filled with regret. Memories that shouldn’t exist because she’d never lived them. 

Claude was another story entirely. Where Dimitri wore his emotions plainly, even the dark, filthy ones that did not suit his pretty blue eyes, Claude locked his up. Men like that were never to be trusted. They’d leave you to rot the moment they realized your death would ensure their safety. 

Men like Claude von Riegan survived because it was all they knew. 

“I thought you liked stabbing?” 

“When I’m the one doing it.” 

。。。

The Blue Lions, Byleth quickly learned, were already composed of deeply woven connections. The second thing she learned was that they’d all had been taught how to fight straight from a book. 

Which was the problem. 

Books did nothing to prepare them for war. So she told them exactly that. 

“I am not here to teach you how to fight honorably,” she said blankly, eyes moving around the rooms to take in their expressions. 

Annette and Ashe seemed on the hesitant side, quickly averting their gaze from hers. Felix looked the most interested, back straight as he listened, alongside Dimitri who absorbed every word. Mercedes looked more concerned, and Ingrid clearly had something she wanted to say but refused to. Dedue was the only person she couldn’t get a clear read on. His face was carefully stoic. 

Sylvain was looking further from her eyes than she would’ve preferred. 

“Honor does not win wars,” she continued easily, hands on her desk. “So do not fight with it.” 

Ingrid’s lips were pinched together, shoulders holding obvious tension. Byleth stared at her a moment, cocking her head to the side as though motioning to her to speak up. 

“Then... then how should we fight, Professor?” she asked carefully, tasting the words like they burnt her tongue. 

“Like your enemies,” she stated, eyes dull, “to survive.” 

。。。

Dimitri and Felix were the only ones to linger after she dismissed class. And Dedue, but he didn’t approach her like the other two did. 

“Spar with me,” Felix demanded, despite Dimitri’s insistence it was rude. Byleth looked up from her desk, chin resting on her palm. 

“After class tomorrow.” 

He scowled at that but said nothing more. Without so much as a goodbye, he forcibly bumped his shoulder into Dimitri’s as he left. 

_Such a troubled boy._

‘I think he’s funny.’  
  
_Of course you do._

“Apologies for Felix, Professor,” Dimitri immediately said, giving her a shaky smile. Byleth shook her head. 

“It’s my job,” she said. 

“Ah, yes, I suppose it is.” 

They fell into silence after that. Byleth hardly cared, continuing to gaze at Dimitri expectantly. His cheeks flushed slightly as he turned away, awkwardly coughing into his hand. She blinked. 

“Sorry, is there something you wanted?” she asked, trying to not sound unkind. 

“I was wondering if you’d care to join me—us during dinner,” he said quickly, then he smiled,” it would be a good opportunity to get to know us all.” 

Byleth considered it. It _would_ be a good thing to get to know her students. And Dimitri was staring at her so expectantly, she could particularly see a tail wagging. On the other hand, she’d made plans to visit the tavern with Kareem tonight. Very, very tempting plans that would have her with someone to sleep next to. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” she finally said,” I’ve made plans tonight.” 

Dimitri’s expression dropped instantly, but he was quick to cover it up. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sothis giving her a disappointed look. Byleth ignored her. 

“Tomorrow then,” he said, leaving after a clipped goodbye, Dedue hot on his trail. 

She’d almost regretted her choice, with him looking like a kicked puppy. In her defense, she’d already made plans! It was bad manners to cancel on someone. 

_You do not even care for manners_ , Sothis hissed beside her. 

“Have to say, Teach, you really know how to break a guy’s heart.” 

“I have plans.” 

“With your friend?” Claude asked, eyes batting innocently. “The one you’re sharing a room with?” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” she asked instead, blinking tiredly at him. His smile seemed to grow as he sidled up to her desk. 

“You flatter me.” 

“I wasn’t trying to.” 

“I know.” 

Byleth couldn’t hold back her eye roll. Even Sothis seemed to frown at him with thinly veiled distrust. 

“You should have picked us,” he continued, leaning back further on his hand to look down at her. “We could’ve been great, you and me.” 

“I don’t regret my decision,” she replied, tone light, lacking any malice. 

“So harsh.” He chuckled, head tipped towards her. “You truly wound me.” 

“Cry about it,” she said with a shrug, back pressing against her chair. 

“In your arms?” 

“No.” 

He laughed, the sound thundering in Byleth’s mind. It didn’t sound forced, but Claude could be an even more skilled liar than she thought. 

“I am curious about one thing,” she started slowly.

“If you’re wondering if I’m singl—“

“I am not. I was going to ask why you’re here and not in Almyra.”

The classroom quieted immediately. Whatever mirth Claude had faded as he regarded her. Sothis tensed beside her. Byleth met his gaze without flinching, face carefully neutral. 

“Was it my roguishly good looks that gave it away?” he forced, lips twitching into a barely there smirk that gleamed fake.

“The braid,” she answered honestly,” Kareem used to wear one.” 

(And Fahim, a voice—not Sothis’—whispered. Byleth had grown decent at ignoring them.) 

“I knew you were an interesting one, Teach,” he said. Byleth raised an eyebrow at his non-response. “Please, it’s hardly fair I spill all my secrets to you.” 

She considered this. Had she expected Claude to just tell her? No, no she hadn’t, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

“I think we should make a deal,” he continued without fail,” I tell you a secret and you tell me one in return. It’s only fair.” 

Again, she considered it. Byleth hardly had any secrets. If you didn’t include the talking girl floating next to her head, her ability to turn back the hands of time, and the way she constantly felt a strong sense of deja vu. 

“Alright,” Byleth agreed.

Sothis groaned. 

As Claude hopped off her desk to leave, he turned to Byleth. 

“I’ll have to ask you to not tell anyone where I’m from.” 

“You have my word.” 

“Your word means very little, Teach, you should know that.” There was that smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, only the outer corners like a long forgotten ghost. 

Alone with Sothis, the apparition turned to her. 

_What an odd way to attempt to join you in bed._

‘You can say fuck, Sothis.’ 

_I most certainly will not!_

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by me not seeing byleth as a blushing virgin LOL claudeth is endgame but im weak to all byleth ships and will write au’s bc i can’t help myself. 
> 
> also officially love kareem so teehee he became more central to the plot. jealousy tropes r chefs kiss


End file.
